SOTD – Black Lips

Black Lips- You Keep On Running

Awesome.

Filed under: Music, Arabia Mountain, Black Lips

SOTD – Dananananaykroyd

(Song of the day)

Dananananaykroyd- ‘Muscle Memory’

Apart from having the best band name ever,  Dananananaykroyd have released (perhaps) the best indie/pop/rock/happy/Los Campesinos!-esque single of this year.

They write pretty good lyrics:

“Take what seems to get you down/ And follow misinterpretations” (!)

They’re Scottish, too.

Filed under: Music, Dananananaykroyd, music, song of the day, SOTD

Gil Scott-Heron R.I.P.

Gil Scott-Heron had an amazing way with words. He rapped before there was rap, and told the truth when no-one else would. He called out oatmeal men, deciphered shock, fought against the ‘non-era’ he lived in, and cut through the veil of political systems and addiction. He did this with an ever-present smirk, and powerful perception.

His career was varied, but his spoken word stuff, for me, is his most powerful.
Here are two of his best ‘position poems’:

H2O Gate Blues

We Beg Your Pardon

Last year, he returned with I’m New Here. It is a testament to his talent that he was relevant and important until the end.

Filed under: Music, Recorded sounds, Gil Scott-Heron

Bob Dylan, 70 years of

Safe to say I’m a massive fan, I won’t go into much, much chartered territory here, just a list of my top 10:

10.  ’Do You Hear What I Hear?’, 2009

Yes, seriously – taken from 2009′s Christmas in the Heart. Music, for me, is judged by how powerful it is. This is. I realise it’s not the proper thing to do; it’s safe to say I’ll  be the only one including anything from his foray into Christmas standards in a ‘top ten’ list, but this just makes me happy. I don’t know why. It reminds me of primary school Christmas pageants. His gruff, latter-day register undercuts the traditional arrangement perfectly. It seems, most importantly to me, honest. That’s all we can ask for.

9.  ’Cry A While’, 2001

From my favourite album of all time, “Love and Theft”, this is a swaggering, uncompromising blues-rocker. Really good.

8.  ’Sign on the Window’, 1970

One of Dylan’s most stunning vocal deliveries, paired with some fantastic, affecting song writing. “Brighton girls are like the moon”, apparently. I’m inclined to believe him.

7.  ’ ‘Cross the Green Mountain’, 2003

Dylan’s Civil War epic. Executed like only he could.

6.  ’My Back Pages’, 1966

“Ah, but I was so much older then, 
I’m younger than that now”

A stunning display of the man’s lyrical mastery, and his knack in choosing an appropriate ‘tune’, mournful and biting at the same time. Dylan’s response to being ordained the ‘voice of a generation’;  it’s a conversation with himself.

5.  ’Changing of the Guards’, 1978

From the often-bagged Street Legal. This song creates a palpable atmosphere – it’s progression is moving, complimented by backup singers, saxophone, and the omnipresent organ. The sketchy recording adds to the mystery; it’s not clear what Dylan is doing here. I picture a beach at night, wind gusts and bamboo flame torches. I don’t know why.

4. ‘Nettie Moore’, 2006

Dylan’s ruminations on the ‘outside’ world, on the journey of life:

“They say whiskey’ll kill you
But I don’t think it will”

“Well, the world of research is going berserk
Too much paperwork”

His observations are tinged with a subtle irony, a dry sarcasm that pulls the song together. It’s also a beautiful love song – he deftly blends its two personalities.

3. ‘Workingman’s Blues #2′, 2006

His most underrated song. This is the song I play when I have too much work to do in too little time; when I feel like a ‘working man’. It’s perfectly introspective, a rare thing for Dylan, it’s a reflective masterpiece. It feels so simple, yet is so layered when examined – this is the mark of a true masterpiece.

It’s coupled with one of his best melodies. The piano at the beginning acts much like the snare drum at the beginning of ‘Rolling Stone’, it introduces the listener to a new world: not a world most of us know, it’s not one Dylan knows, either.

2. ‘Stuck Inside of Mobile (With the Memphis Blues Again)’, 1966

From the new to the old, Dylan creates an astoundingly poignant atmosphere here. The lyrics meld perfectly with the music; each component is so strong on its own – when taken together, it is something special. It is kaleidoscopic in its structure; it is hard to pin down. Shakespeare makes an appearance, as does the ragman. Mona warns him against mixing with the railroad men, while Grandpa dies and the rainmen offer cures. Each verse presents a new challenge to the listener. It’s one I’m more than happy to take on.

The music, too, is wonderfully idiosyncratic. The ‘mercury’ guitar and biting organ seem to be in a constant struggle – a battle for space to experiment and to fill in musical ‘gaps’. This while the bass and drums hold a steady line, and Dylan gives (perhaps) his best vocal performance.

It’s really good.

1. ‘Mississippi’, 2001

This became the most important song in my life very quickly. There is something about it. He’s singing about the past, but the future is not left to hang. The narrator sounds, at the same time, reflective and hopeful; weary and excited. Dylan, here, sings for, and to, everyone – its concepts are universal and masterfully communicated, with the same soul and passion as his early work. This is a humble Dylan, an introspective, honest Dylan.

“Things should start to get interesting right about now”.

What a journey it’s been.

Filed under: Recorded sounds, The Occasional Essay, Bob, Dylan, Top Ten

A night at the football

Crowds confuse me. In one large group of people – at a sporting event, for example – you’ll find poncho-wearing smart-arses; dragged-along spouses; people there to watch the game; people there to drink; people who think their incoherent shouting constitutes helpful coaching advice; and those who sit alone, quietly – usually wearing a beanie complimented by multiple layers of clothing, most often clinging on to a thermos. These are the people who remind you that it’s cold.

“Fuck”, said a poncho-wearing smart-arse sitting in front of me. Nothing followed. It was as if, for this man, the f-word could be substituted for a sigh, a moan, a cough perhaps – it was tossed off as he leant back. His poncho began to ride up the back of the seat, creating a sort-of neck warmer. I could not glean from observation the rationale behind the use of a poncho at a football game. It was a proper woolen one with some kind of festive design; he was not partaking, from what I could gather, in a traditional Andean festival. I could be wrong, it’s happened before.

Perhaps he was demonstrating his irreverent, self-aware nature, perhaps he was from another time, or maybe he was just a woolen outer-garment fan. We will never know. Speaking of – what you don’t know is that he was with two other people, each wearing a poncho of a different design. So, perhaps this was a gang. A gang of poncho-wearers: The Poncho-Wearing Society of Australia.

What you also don’t know is that I, sat behind this collective, I was jealous of their traditional dress. It was so cold. Remember that lone warrior, clinging onto her thermos, under a multi-layer arrangement? She was warm. The poncho-wearers were also warm. I had a t-shirt on; that is all. So, as the crowd dispersed at the conclusion of the game, I asked for an application form. I said that I was interested in joining the society, pointing at one of their garments.

The response I got was justified. “Fuck”, said one of them. I waited. Surely something would follow this time. “Off”, said the same poncho-wearer. He adjusted his poncho and lead his companions down the aisle, leaving me shivering; without an application form or a poncho. “Fuck”, I said. Nothing followed.

Filed under: The Occasional Essay, humor, Life, Sport, writing

The Tallest Man On Earth

“This is where I stole the song from…”

It takes a big man to admit to stealing something. Even bigger to do it in front of thousands of people. Kristian Matsson (‘The Tallest Man On Earth’) did just that at the Haldern Pop Festival last August.

This is a stunning example of borrowing ‘for the sake of art’ – it happens all the time (see: Bob Dylan’s last three albums), but it’s not always admitted to (see: Bob Dylan’s last three albums).

The late, great Utah Phillips, when quizzed on people borrowing his songs, told borrowers not to worry; “I just won’t sue you”. This seems to be the most applicable view in today’s musical landscape, but one very few hold.

The Matsson-penned song, here, ‘You’re Going Back’, is a rumination on a deep friendship; not a romance, but a platonic love. When he transitions to Sade’s ‘By Your Side’ – “this is what I really want to say to my friend” – both his song and Sade’s take on new meaning; a larger, weightier meaning, something that transcends any kind of copyright law. It should stay that way.

By way of comparison, here’s Sade’s original:

It, too, takes a big man to admit to knowing a Sade song; even bigger to cover one. He’s pretty much as tall as it gets.

Filed under: The Occasional Essay, music, Sade, Tallest Man On Earth, writing

In Defence Of…

I’ve got another confession to make:

I kind of like the Foo Fighters. Not in a self-aware, ironic, hipster-esque way, but in an honest, sincere, Dave Letterman apology-esque way.

Another confession; I’m new to the Foo Fighters. Of course I’ve heard their radio songs (Best Of You; Learn To Fly; Wheels et al), but bought their Greatest Hits just this week. And I’m loving it.

You’ll notice, having seen the ‘Learn To Fly’ music video, that they don’t take themselves at all seriously – that I like. They’re a refreshing take on radio-rock, are highly accessible and easy to listen to. They’re one of the rare cases in which I do not care about critical reception (I’m a self confessed quantifying fool, obsessed with ratings and reviews), and for that I’m glad they’re around. It’s music that comes from a good place.

Without me knowing it, too, they have found their way into my memory bank; sport highlight reels and countless hours of radio-background-noise ; the odd commercial and countless inspirational, slow motion filled Windows Movie Maker creations.

With all that in mind, it’s hard for me not to like the sometimes long haired, always bearded man and his motley crew.

Do yourself a favour and let them get the best of you.  

Filed under: In Defence Of, Foo Fighters, music

Recorded sounds #2

A celebration of the best recorded sounds ever.

The organ solo in Pete Molinari’s ‘One Stolen Moment’, from A Virtual Landslide.
(You’ll find it at 1:52)

It’s a rainy day; cold, too. You have a long walk ahead of you, but you have your iPod on you. You begin to walk, and the rain pelts down – no matter – you put your hood on. As you do this, the shimmer of ‘One Stolen Moment’s’ guitar sounds. You keep walking. Molinari’s voice seems perfectly fitted to the situation; it’s a miserable day, yet you’re still content; happy, even.

Two minutes later and you’re still walking, a little wetter, and a little grumpier. At this moment, the organ begins. Its tone is nasal and smooth at the same time; its tune hopeful and sorrowful. You keep walking.

You trip over. By now the organ is done, but he’s still singing. You’re pretty grumpy now. And wet – very, very wet. You must have tripped over into a puddle, a wet one, too. You keep walking. He’s still singing, so you’re okay. However, that thing from movies, where a car drives into a puddle on the road and splashes it onto you, happens. It splashes on your face, on your chest, your legs, and saturates your shoes. It’s found its way behind you too. You’re wet behind you. How dare the water creep behind you? You’ve given it enough surface area, surely. He’s not singing anymore. You stop walking.

Filed under: Recorded sounds, humor, music, Pete Molinari

The Occasional Essay: a month on a bus

The bus diaries… Pt. 1

I’VE now been taking a bus to and from university for about a month. If anything, it’s confirmed my suspicion that public transport attracts the ‘unusual’ set of our society. The people who would, given the chance, lock anyone into a forty-five minute conversation about “the boat people”, “women doctors”, or “the good old days”, in which days, it would seem – to the outside observer – that one could do as they wished, to whomever they wished, whenever they wished. Yes, it is true that most of my encounters have been with older bus goers. So-called ‘political correctness’ is the bane of their existence.

The older, opinionated bus goer is fine, except when the bus is full of other people my age, usually from 8am to 9am. Invariably, as my stop is at the start of the line, I’ll be positioned next to an OBG (older/ opinionated bus goer). The conversation they engage in seems to become more frenzied as the bus becomes more full. In the same way, my level of reluctance at receiving their thought increases. Their opinions don’t annoy me; it’s the decibel level at which they communicate them. I feel somehow complicit in their sometimes outdated, and always inappropriate, views, and can feel the disapproving eyes of my fellow students locked on me.

However, the curious, singular world that is created by the inside of a bus makes this okay. It’s not just the OBGs. It’s the woman who once embarked upon her journey wearing a pair of industrial Ear Muffs, like the ones you might see jack-hammerers wearing; it’s the ludicrously bearded man who once spent a whole forty-five minute trip standing, all seats being free; it’s the driver who once told me, as I was halfway out the door, that my generation were “a waste” of his “time”. It seemed like an inappropriate time to say so.

I have five more years taking a bus twice a day. That’s a lot of bus hours. In that time, I fully expect to become that bearded, perpetually standing man; the Ear Muff wearing lady; and the bus driver disenchanted with the younger generation. And I look forward to it.

Filed under: The Occasional Essay, Bus, essay, humor, Life, writing

Stewart Lee: Kittens and Top Gear

STEWART Lee speaks on two topics close to our collective hearts: kittens and Top Gear. Enjoy.

Kittens:

Top Gear:

Filed under: Ad break, Kittens, Stewart Lee, Top Gear